


light and dark

by ShadowLink720



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: ...... i'm not sure if this counts as an alternate universe, Gen, Multi, i'm back on my bullshit and i'm guessing maybe about 4 of you understand what i mean by that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-21 05:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20688017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowLink720/pseuds/ShadowLink720
Summary: Olberic has been having a strange recurring dream lately. Shenanigans ensue, but probably not a particularly good kind.





	1. red amidst the snow.

_ This way _ , the fox beckons, it's eyes foretelling greater intelligence than any beast one would find in the Woodlands.

Olberic lets out a shivering sigh as he tries to keep the animal's red fur in sight. He would move faster, but despite his body being used to cold, the snow that swirls around them seems to cut right to the bone. The fox seems no worse for wear, however; simply keeping an eye on Olberic and making a few bounds forward every so often.

_ We are almost there. ‘Tis not long now. _ It's voice is calm, patient, even warm.

But something seems to slow Olberic's pace further. It claws at his ankles, drills its gaze into the back of his head, grabs at his wrists, demands his attention.

The fox stares intently, awaiting Olberic's approach.

But the presence behind him proves to be stronger. Glancing behind him, the warrior sees… nothing. The faint figure of a person, perhaps, but it disperses within moments.

And when Olberic shifts his gaze back in front of him, the fox is gone.

He's alone in the valley.

Again.

Somewhere deeper in the mountains, a roar bellows, echoing within the valley - twisted and monstrous enough to freeze the blood in any creature’s veins.

* * *

"Olberic."

Olberic's eyes flicker open to be greeted by the sight of Erhardt hovering over him slightly. The night is dark, aye, but Olberic is all too familiar with the way moonlight catches Erhardt's eyes.

A heavy silence falls between them, as Olberic half begins to anticipate dread for no reason settling in, as it occasionally does when he wakes abruptly.

But for once, ‘twould seem he is spared his night terrors.

"Erhardt…?" The questioning tone falls quietly from his tongue as he begins to remember where he is. Which he does quickly; they’re staying at Bolderfall’s inn, where they stopped on their way to the Riverlands.

"The one and only." Erhardt answers, golden hair falling gently onto Olberic's face as he leans in closer for inspection. "You were very tense. Thought you might be having another nightmare."

Olberic recalls telling Erhardt to wake him should he ever notice odd things like that, particularly considering how the frequency of his nightmares drop so much just with having Erhardt around.

"I see." He finally speaks, throat rough from not being used. After a brief glance around their room, Olberic adds, "I suppose Cyrus is still up."

Erhardt nods his head.

With a disappointed sigh, Olberic finally relaxes the shoulders he never realised were so tensed up. "We need to be more stubborn with fixing his sleep pattern."

Chuckling softly, Erhardt mostly agrees as he buries his face in the side of Olberic's neck. "I take that as a 'you're doing fine', hm?" His breath tickles the skin, but Olberic barely takes notice - opting instead to just hum in response.

One hand runs up Erhardt's back, gently up to his shoulder blades. Erhardt lightly arches his back into the touch in response, and softly kisses Olberic's neck. The warmth of it spreads across his entire body, but it would be best to not let this escalate. Not here.

Erhardt understands that, too, as he shifts his body more to one side of Olberic and properly lies back down. He keeps one arm draped across Olberic's chest, but Olberic doesn't mind it.

The soft creak of a door opening breaks the quiet for a moment.

"You're back sooner than I'd thought you would." Erhardt remarks, having lifted his head a little to see Cyrus shutting the door behind him, the soft glow of dim candlelight that identified the scholar being promptly blown out.

"My sincerest apologies," he whispers. "I did not wake the two of you, did I?"

Olberic shakes his head, but it goes mostly unnoticed as Erhardt whispers back. "Aye, most abruptly." A brief pause, before he laughs "I kid, I kid… we were just about to go back to sleep, so get over here before you  _ do  _ end up waking us."

Cyrus does as Erhardt tells him, removing his cloak once he reached a spot where he could use the moonlight to see what he was doing. And once done, the scholar makes himself comfortable in the little space Olberic and Erhardt had between each other.

Olberic reaches over to run one hand through Cyrus' hair, and leans in to kiss his forehead, but Cyrus lifts his head up and kisses him back on the lips. He then awkwardly twists around to do the same for Erhardt on his other side.

"Sleep well." Erhardt mutters.

Olberic does, at least, get back to sleep, but whether it is decent is another matter.

* * *

He finds himself in the snow drifts of the valley again, but the fox is nowhere to be seen.

After wandering for a bit, he stumbles upon an oddly large mound of snow with strange metal pipes sticking out from it.

Curiosity is mixed with a feeling of dread in his chest, particularly when he notices the blood that stains it. It doesn’t look old.

The snow twitches, so very suddenly.

And Olberic wakes up.

* * *

Early morning sun trickles through the curtains, and Olberic reckons now would be as good a time as any to wake.

The only problem, however, is the risk of waking his companions. Olberic is well aware of both Cyrus and Erhardt's habit of huddling close to him, and in such cases Olberic's presence (or lack thereof) would be very noticeable.

He is partially spared the decision, however, as Erhardt seems to stir a little.

He mumbles some barely comprehensible nonsense that Olberic understands as a 'good morning', and Olberic whispers it back.

They stay quiet for a while, simply enjoying the calm of the morning in each other's company while Cyrus sleeps soundly between them.

"It'll be a while yet till this one wakes up." Erhardt rightly observes, giving Cyrus a light, drowsy kiss on his head.

"Mm." Olberic's hand gently runs through the scholar's hair again.

"... I doubt he'd wake up if you were to leave and begin your day, you know. So if you want to, go ahead."

Olberic ponders it for a moment. The mornings are when he does most of his training, since it's at a time he barely has to worry about anyone, and it leaves the rest of his day for travelling or whatever else he and the others would do that day.

… But conversely, when was the last time he  _ allowed  _ himself a slower morning? Rarely does he get time alone with two he holds so dearly to his (admittedly rotted) heart.

"... I want to spend the morning with you." He decides, shifting his body to cup Erhardt's face in his hand.

A chuckle finds its way from Erhardt's lips, and he leans in to lazily kiss Olberic on his own.

"I'll warn you," Erhardt grins, "I'm feeling quite affectionate this morning."

"Hardly sounds like a warning."

Olberic watches Erhardt's hand slide down Cyrus' arm, before it moves to Olberic's own to do the same. Only, his hand doesn't stop around his wrist, instead then sliding to his hip.

"You sure of that?" Erhardt asks, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“‘Tis too early for this.” Olberic sighs.

Erhardt grins, his grip tightening around Olberic’s wrist. “I ken. I won’t tease you any further.”

...

Olberic isn't sure exactly how much time passes spent with idle touches and soft kisses when Cyrus begins to wake.

Erhardt wastes no time, giving the scholar a light peck on his cheek.

"Good morning, sweetheart." His voice whispers into Cyrus' ear like honey, sweet and golden.

Cyrus seems to shiver a little with delight at such a morning greeting.

"Goodness me," he mutters, his face turning pink with his blush. "What a wonderful start to this fine day."

Olberic can't help but smile as he kisses Cyrus on his brow, which makes the scholar's face turn a deeper red.

"You two are  _ very _ forward today. Whatever is the occasion?"

Erhardt laughs. "There's no occasion, Cyrus. We've merely been struck with a bad case of sappiness."

Olberic gives a tired chuckle as well, wrapping an arm around both of them. "'Tis simply a nice day to appreciate the ones we love."

Cyrus seems to be waking up a little at this point, as he perks up. "Splendid! Allow me…" Promptly, Cyrus takes Olberic's face in his hands and kisses him not quite as softly as Olberic did him, and he does the same with Erhardt.

“Well then! I suppose we should make the most of today, yes?” Cyrus is quick to sit up. “Then let us prepare some tea while we wait for the others.”

* * *

“I have been having strange dreams, of late.” Olberic says, vacant gaze no doubt showing how distant his thoughts are.

Cyrus tries to take a sip of his tea, but it appears to still be too hot, so instead he sets it back down and traces the rim of the cup. “Have you? Would you care to describe them?”

A sigh, as Olberic tries to gather the details that he remembers - which turns out to be more than he expected.

“... I find myself in a valley covered in snow,” he begins. “It feels like the Highlands, but… I can tell it’s not.” Thinking back, he can truly tell something about it is  _ off _ , in a way he just cannot place.

“You find yourself somewhere that feels like home, but it’s not…” Cyrus mutters, hand to his face as his brow furrows in thought. “It wouldn’t… happen to involve a  _ fox _ , would it?”

With a slight frown, Olberic begins to wonder what Cyrus is thinking. “... Aye, it does. It asks me to follow it.” He eventually confirms.

Cyrus nods, slowly. “I see, I see… And do you ever reach where it tries to take you?”

Olberic shakes his head.

The scholar hums in thought. “How very curious… I have been having a similar recurring dream. The location is different, however - ‘tis a place that seems like the Flatlands.”

Something tells Olberic that it feels too strange to be a coincidence.

“There is magic that can allow one to enter another’s dreams.” Cyrus speculates. “The practice mostly goes unused, however… Perhaps this fox is someone trying to speak to us...”

Before he can dwell on the thought too much, however, Erhardt enters, with hair still mildly wet. He looks much more awake, at least.

Erhardt makes himself comfortable next to Olberic and takes a long sip of his own cup of tea. After setting the cup back down, he grins.

"So, we'll be making our way to Saintsbridge once the others are all up and ready, won't we? I suppose you'll have it all planned out." He says, nudging Olberic's arm with his elbow.

Olberic sighs, with a slight nod.

There is a brief pause, before Cyrus stands up. "Speaking of the others, I believe I shall go and check on them. Surely most of them should be up by  _ now _ …"

* * *

The Riverlands are humid.  _ Very _ humid. Home to all sorts of insects, too. Cyrus wastes no time explaining any and every species that he recognises, which at least provides Olberic with a distraction from the heat. Ophilia, too, has trouble dealing with such humid climates. Olberic knows for certain that the scholar himself is also slow to adjust, perhaps he is doing it to distract himself from it just as much…

Erhardt, however, seems perfectly fine. Olberic has known him for years yet he cannot fathom how Erhardt can…  _ handle _ such temperatures.

Most of the road to Saintsbridge, thankfully, is lined with trees that provide much needed shade, and that is where most of the group stay within.

Eventually, Alfyn, who was at the head of the group, stops. "'S getting a little late, don't y'all think? Maybe we should start settin' up camp for the night."

Everyone comes to an agreement, clearly all tired from so much travelling, and H'aanit, Linde, Erhardt, and Therion go looking for potential shelter, while Alfyn and Tressa decide to see what fish they can catch.

Olberic has no plans to move from where he rests in the shade, and Ophilia and Primrose join him. For the most part, Olberic stays quiet - mostly thinking about his dreams, and the fox.

… Should he ever see it again, he is determined to follow it to where it wants to go.

But as his mind continues to wander, he begins to recall the other dream. He remembers the mound of snow, and how it began to  _ move _ .

Thinking about it causes unease to take root in his mind. He can tell, even though it was simply a dream, that something was wrong.

What that was, though, he cannot tell.

H'aanit and her group return with good tidings of a rock overhang they could use as shelter, and once Tressa and Alfyn also return (with plenty of spoils), H'aanit leads the way.

It doesn’t take all that long for the rest of the party to rejoin Erhardt and Therion by the overhang. The location itself is heavily forested, which will help for remaining hidden from wandering beasts. A small burn can also be heard nearby, which seems to coat the area in a calm atmosphere.

Erhardt and Therion have already started work on building a fire (a fairly simple task, considering the thief’s knowledge with fire magic) by the time the party regroups. Tressa and Alfyn waste no time preparing the fish they caught, with H’aanit’s help, of course. And while they do that, the rest figure out an order for keeping watch for potential dangers. The order they decide on was to start with Primrose, then Therion, Erhardt, Ophilia, and ending with Olberic.

And as travelling on the road often goes, night falls fast. It doesn't take long for the sun to set and the stars to come out above them.

* * *

Olberic finds himself in the snow drifts again, and the fox is back.

_ Follow us _ , it says with a flick of its tail.

Taking a moment to steel himself, Olberic begins to follow it.

The wind is cutting, the snow makes it hard to see, but he keeps following it.

Slowly, but surely.

And this time, this time he doesn't feel that foreboding presence watching him.

The fox leads him to a tower that seems to stretch far into the sky. Perhaps it was simply because of the snowstorm that Olberic had never caught sight of it before now, but it feels a little odd just the same.

_ Inside, please _ . It yips.  _ We can speak there _ .

So inside he follows it, into shelter from the swelling snowstorm.

The tower is… strange. The walls are lined with unknown contraptions, but the place itself feels so very  _ empty _ . And it feels like it has been abandoned for years, as he notices a thick layer of dust amongst most of the rubble and bizarre metal shapes.

The fox yips again, and is enveloped in a cloud of smoke. It quickly dissipates, and in the fox's place is a young girl.

The girl bows. "We are so very glad to finally meet you, our Lordship."

Olberic can already feel himself wince at the title. "You… needn't call me that."

The girl tilts her head in confusion. "But you are a knight, no?" Her face scrunches up a little, before she shrugs. "Very well, we shall refer to you as our sir Knight, then."

… Well, it was better than her initial name for him. But Olberic has to ignore the pain in his chest that wants him to explain that he is no longer a knight.

The girl pauses, as if waiting for some response from Olberic. When she gets none, she smiles. "We suppose you have a few questions, yes? You have our permission to ask away."

The warrior hesitates for a moment, wondering what to ask first.

Eventually, he gets a general order in his head.

"Who are you?" Is his first question.

"We go by many names. But we suppose you may call us Yо̄ko."

‘Yо̄ko’… not a name Olberic has heard before, but he does not press the matter further.

"What is this place?" Comes his second.

The girl pauses, head tilting again in curiosity. "You do not know?" And when Olberic shakes his head, she frowns. "This is what remains of a great temple. But it has not been used for many years. All but abandoned, barring the magical creatures drawn to the powerful concentration of earth energy."

Sensing that asking further will only give him more questions than answers, he moves on. "Why did you bring me here?"

"We wanted to meet you. We get so very lonely."

Yо̄ko hesitates with that, a small hand tentatively reaching for his.

"... Why me, specifically?" He asks, letting her take his hand.

Her smile comes back, and she looks up to him. "Because our sir Knight is so very kind. So very compassionate and caring. We hear you excel at protecting people."

_ ‘Flattery will get you nowhere’ _ , he wants to say. Instead, he opts for, "That doesn't really answer my question."

Yо̄ko pouts slightly, her free hand playing with the purple tassle of her headpiece.

"We must be truthful, we are being hunted by forces most cruel." She says. "If they find us, we will not stand a chance."

"For what reason would someone hunt a girl like you?" He speaks without thinking.

The girl shakes her head. "We do not know." Her voice begins to quiver slightly. "We do not know why we are hunted so, but the beasts will not relent." She looks back up into his eyes, pleading. "You are a kind soul, sir Knight. We beseech you, pray help us."

"Of course." He says. Why wouldn't he? "With what do you need me for?"

With a sigh of relief, Yо̄ko thanks him. "We may know  _ one  _ way to be rid of our pursuers… One way to reach somewhere that they will not find us."

She freezes, suddenly. Eyes fixed behind Olberic.

"They're coming. We are so terribly sorry to cut this meeting short, but we must leave." She apologises, stepping back.

Olberic glances behind him, but sees nothing.

"We shall speak with you again soon. Thank you ever so much."

And with that, Yо̄ko claps her hands together and her body disappears in the puff of smoke that envelops her.


	2. strange things are happening.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olberic starts noticing odd things after his meeting with Yо̄ko.  
They reach Saintsbridge, but the warrior is wrought with worry.

Olberic awakens to the sound of birdsong. The early mornings, at least, aren’t _ unbearably _warm.

Sitting up, he finds Ophilia awake. She was the one keeping watch, after all. She hears him moving, and glances over with a smile.

"Good morning, Sir Olberic."

Olberic returns the greeting, but even from this distance he can easily see how tired Ophilia looks.

"Have you been awake _ all night _?" He asks.

Ophilia denies it, rather quickly.

"I will take watch from here. Pray, get some rest before the others wake." He says.

"Sir Olberic, I assure you I'm--" her protests are cut short by the unwavering concerned look in his eyes.

She sighs, before caving and making her way back to her makeshift bed.

Making the most of the quiet morning, Olberic thinks about his dream. And about the girl, Yо̄ko. Who - or what - could be after her? Was she truly real? Talking to her certainly _ felt _ real. And there was the fact that Cyrus has been having similar dreams…

So many questions, Olberic just hopes that he can remember to ask them if he sees her again.

As he gazes idly into the last few embers, and the sounds of birdsong and the babbling burn wash over him, something moves in the corner of his eye.

Immediately, his focus shifts to where he saw the movement, but he sees nothing particularly unusual.

So he either imagined it, or the culprit is good at hiding. Frankly, Olberic hates the uncertainty, thus he investigates further.

Slowly, he approaches the undergrowth. Quietly, as though he was hunting.

He finds himself face to face with a cat.

A cat? What was a _ cat _doing here? He only realises he'd expressed his confusion aloud when the tabby mews at him.

It doesn't seem to be agitated or even particularly bothered by him, but nevertheless he blinks slowly. The cat doesn't blink back, of course, but it does follow him as he quietly returns to the fire.

It doesn't seem like a stray. Maybe it just wandered here from Saintsbridge? 'Tis quite a ways to wander, though…

The cat mews again, disturbing his thoughts. It pushes it's head into his gloved palm. He has better judgement than to mindlessly pet animals he doesn't know, least of all potentially wild ones, but… well, the cat was the one to shove its head into his hand as it did.

Disregarding specifics of the situation, Olberic isn't alien to the idea of wild animals taking to him so quickly. It's somewhat _ commonplace _ when he's alone, even. To the point where he could recognise some of them, back in Hornburg all those years ago. 

The cat begins to purr, having made itself comfortable on his leg and beginning to pad at the fabric of his clothes.

…

_ 'Don't get attached to it.' _ He tries so desperately to remind himself. To little avail, alas. Silently does the warrior curse his heart for being so easily swayed.

At least he can hold himself back from trying to think of something to refer to the tabby as… for now.

But its company is appreciated, nonetheless.

* * *

H'aanit is the first to rise along with Linde, and (as Olberic suspected) her immediate reaction is to inquire about the cat.

The warrior was about to answer, but quickly realised it would be easier to tell everyone at once.

Unsurprisingly, the tabby seemed quite comfortable with H'aanit as well.

"Odd." The hunter frowns. "'Tis difficult to read her."

… Odd indeed, considering H’aanit’s skill in understanding beasts.

"Do you know if she has a name?" Olberic asks, once again cursing himself.

H'aanit narrows her eyes in concentration, as she poses the question herself. The cat gives a flick of her tail in response.

With a sigh, H'aanit pets the cat's sleek fur.

"I am uncertain I heard th' name correctly, alas..." She muses. "I believe she hath stated it t' be... 'Rose'? Didst thou hear diff'rent, Linde?"

Linde flicks her own tail, and H'aanit's expression indicates that her companion didn't have much luck understanding either.

Olberic has had no shortage of strange happenstances of late, 'twould seem.

Almost one by one, the others wake up. Ophilia, thankfully, is the last one to do so. And despite all of these strangers, the tabby - ‘Rose’ - continues to be unbothered by the attention. Olberic explains that she was just… nearby for some reason, and that she just decided to stick around.

With everyone awake and (mostly) alert, the group wastes no time disassembling what remained of the fire and generally readying to continue their travels.

Rose keeps following them, to Olberic’s surprise. Somewhere along the way, Olberic begins to think that (were it not for her appearance) one could almost mistake her for being something other than a cat. _ Almost _.

As his mind wanders back to his dream, he passively hears Cyrus speaking.

“Have you been growing your hair out?” The scholar asks Alfyn. In the corner of Olberic’s vision, Alfyn seems taken aback by the question.

“Huh? Uh, no, not… not really? Though I guess it’s been a while since I cut it.” The apothecary laughs, even Olberic is able to hear the nervousness in his tone.

Cyrus nods slowly, his eyes wandering to the scenery around them.

Olberic’s thoughts are disturbed by the feeling of something jumping onto his back and clambering up to his shoulders. Thankfully, it was just Rose. He can’t really blame her, perhaps she was having some trouble keeping pace. Or maybe she just didn’t feel like walking, that was entirely possible too. The warrior doesn’t mind either way.

Noticing she isn’t having the best time keeping balance on his shoulder, he lets her rest in his arms instead.

Rose mews, rubbing her face against his arm… Were her eyes always hazel? Maybe he just didn’t notice before because of the light.

… Can cats _ have _hazel eyes?

Gods, his dream of late seem to have made him start questioning _ everything _.

Ophilia, walking in stride with him, notices Rose in his arms and smiles. Tentatively, she reaches over to pet Rose, who purrs in response.

“... Did you sleep ok?” Olberic asks, still concerned about her weary gaze.

Those tired eyes glance up, before she averts them.

“Y-yes, I did.”

Olberic isn’t convinced.

“I mean it, really.” Her second attempt sounds a little more convincing.

“You shouldn’t stay up like that in the first place…” Olberic mutters, but he ultimately decides not to push the matter further. It’s not like he is in much of a position to criticise. No doubt Ophilia can tell the unintentional hypocrisy in his words.

The cleric falls quiet, seemingly listening to the river they walk parallel to.

Suddenly, she seems to perk up a little.

“Sorry, would you excuse me? I think I… saw something.” She says, nervously.

Olberic offers to go with her, but she insists she will be fine.

“I’ll try not to be long, don’t wait for me.” And with that, she disappears into the undergrowth.

For a very brief moment, Olberic could swear he saw… someone? Some sort of silhouette.

Rose meows quite loudly, which draws Olberic’s attention. She seems fine, though. Perhaps simply wanting attention.

But still his eyes dart back to the forest. Unable to shake away the feeling of being watched.

And unable to forget the fear in Yо̄ko’s eyes as she spoke of the creatures that hunt her.

Eventually, Ophilia joins back up with them. “I told you I’d be fine.” She says.

And she rejoined them just in time, as well, as Saintsbridge was in sight now.

One last time, before entering the town, Olberic glances back. And he catches sight of the same figure he saw before disappearing into the trees.

So it would seem they _ were _being followed.

But upon backtracking to where he saw the figure standing, there was nothing. They were probably already quite far by this point.

Tressa calls on him, and he reluctantly catches back up to the group. He’ll just have to keep on his guard…

* * *

Exhausted from being on his feet practically all day (he always offered to help the others when they were out doing something for fear that the figure following them would make a move of some kind) Olberic sighs, collapsing onto the bed at the inn they were staying in.

Erhardt watches him do so, and smiles softly. “I tried to tell you ye’d end up like this.” He says, sitting next to Olberic and patting his head lightly.

Olberic sighs again, more exaggerated than his last one.

“I was worried.” He mumbles into the sheets.

Erhardt shifts to lie next to him, the question clear in his eyes.

“... I think we were being followed.” Olberic explains, suddenly realising that he… didn’t get the chance to tell anyone of it at all.

Eyebrows raise at Olberic’s words. “You certain?” He asks.

Olberic would nod, but alas… “I’m not _ entirely _certain, but… I’ve learned to trust the foreboding feeling in my chest when it arises.”

Erhardt hums, turning his gaze to the window. Already does night cover the town.

With a firm pat on Olberic’s shoulder, Erhardt stands back up. “Get some rest.” His voice is quiet, and soft. “You need it, otherwise you’ll wear yersel’ tae the bone.”

Olberic grunts in reluctant acknowledgment. It’s practically all he can do to stay awake currently, after all. But the feeling in his chest will make him restless, he is all too aware.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before Erhardt joins him. Even Cyrus is ready at a decent time for once.

But still, fears of the worst linger in his mind.

* * *

“Hello again.” Yо̄ko says.

For some reason, Olberic still feels tired. Nevertheless, he returns her greeting.

“How is our sir Knight? You do not look very well…” Her brow furrows in concern.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” He dismisses. “Yо̄ko, what was it you were going to tell me last night?”

Yо̄ko blinks. “You are eager.” She observes. “But if you insist, we shall not keep you from it any longer.”

Olberic only now realises how tense his body is, and he tries to relax his shoulders a little.

“Our sir Knight knows of the ‘dragonstones’, yes?” She asks.

With a pause, Olberic nods. “The treasure of House Ravus. I ken of them.”

Yо̄ko smiles in confirmation. “Emerald, Sapphire, Ruby, and Gold, they are called.” She says, with chin in her hands. “But did you know ‘twould be more accurate to associate them with elements?”

Olberic frowns. And Yо̄ko laughs.

“Yes. Wind, water, fire, and earth. These are the elements of which the stones represent.”

Shaking his head, Olberic speaks up. “How do you know for certain? I’ve never heard of such a thing…”

Taking his hand in her own, Yо̄ko’s smile widens in reassurance. “We speak the truth, fair sir Knight. Do you not believe us?”

Olberic shakes his head again. “It’s not that, I just…” Curse his tongue for not forming words fast enough.

Yо̄ko pats his hand. “We speak the truth.” She says. “But what we need are not those.”

When she knows Olberic’s attention is undivided, she moves closer.

“There are not four stones, but six. Two have disappeared from the peoples’ minds.” Her whispered words sends chills to his bones.

“... What?” He asks in disbelief.

The girl nods. “Light and dark.” She specifies. “The stones once guarded by the Jabberwock and Shinryu. Those are the ones we need to be safe from our pursuers.”

Everything should point to Olberic not believing her. Never has he heard of a fifth dragonstone, let alone a _ sixth _.

Yet… he cannot bring himself to think she is lying. In his heart, he can tell she speaks the truth.

“What am I supposed to do with that, then?” He inquires, after finally regaining his words.

Yо̄ko tightens her grip and steps closer. “We need you to help us find them.” She whispers. “You are the only one we can turn to, sir Knight. Please…” Her mouth begins to quiver. Fearful of what may happen otherwise, most likely.

Olberic collects himself and descends to his knees. With head bowed, Olberic takes a breath.

“I fear I ken not how you believe I will find these stones, my lady, but…” He lifts his head up to look into her worried eyes. “I _ will _protect you. I give you my word.”

Yо̄ko’s face lights up, her smile widening again, and she closes what gap remained as she throws her arms around his neck (which she could now plausibly reach).

“Oh, thank you, thank you.” She says, tears forming in her eyes. “We are so deeply grateful…” Pulling away, she wipes her eyes. “And worry not, our fair Knight. We shall do all in our power to assist.”

Olberic smiles back. Seeing people happy - _ genuinely _happy - reminds him why he took up the sword at all.

Yо̄ko’s face drops a little, however. “But we can only do so much without being noticed…”

Olberic assures her that it’s fine, that he can figure something out.

She hugs him again, and in his ear she whispers, “And we fear the ones who seek us may be closer than our fair Knight may think.”

* * *

Olberic almost speaks the question aloud when he wakes abruptly. Thankfully he doesn’t. ‘Twould awaken Cyrus and Erhardt without a doubt.

The room is almost pitch black. It’s still night?

His chest begins to flare with anxiety. His breathing quickens with his pulse. Something is wrong. Something is _ wrong _.

He remembers the figure he saw while entering Saintsbridge.

With his eyes beginning to adjust, he glances to the forms of Cyrus and Erhardt beside him. Still sleeping soundly, it seems. Good.

Quietly, Olberic slips out of the bed. Quickly, Olberic puts on some clothes. And, steeling himself, he peers out the window. He sees someone leave the inn, in somewhat of a hurry.

It’s… _ Ophilia _. And Alfyn as well.

He cannot hesitate.

So, quietly, but still hurriedly, he makes his way outside. Locking his room’s door behind him felt like it took an eternity, but he did manage it.

The night air is warm, but fear has turned his blood to ice.

Thankfully, there aren’t many buildings to obscure his sight, and Olberic sees Ophilia and Alfyn making their way to the Saintsbridge entrance.

As much as reasoning tells him to catch up with them, something else tells him to keep at a distance.

A small meow makes him jump a little, but it’s just Rose. He nods in greeting, but continues on his way.

He follows Ophilia and Alfyn out of town and into the forest. Deeper and deeper they go, and it gets harder to keep sight of them and stay at a distance they won’t hear. But eventually, they reach a clearing.

Where they find… _ Primrose _? Her hair seems much shorter. And there is also a… bear.

Bears in the Riverlands? That doesn’t sound right. It’s presence just feels so _ strange _.

_ Everything _feels strange.

They greet one another in hushed tones, Olberic strains to hear them.

“Have you found anything yet?” Primrose asks.

Ophilia shakes her head.

“We’ve been _ trying _, but… so far, not a lot of luck.” Alfyn sighs.

“They can tell when we’re coming.” Ophilia explains. “But we do know who they’ve made contact with.”

Olberic feels like he may choke on the air with how tight his chest is, hearing them becomes difficult with his heart roaring in his ears.

“Who?” Primrose asks. There’s a strange tone of authority in her voice.

The silence becomes deafening, and Alfyn and Ophilia hesitate.

“It’s Olberic.” Alfyn whispers.

The bear grunts in anger.

Olberic turns around, back against the tree he hid behind, desperately trying to steady his breathing. To wit, he places a hand over his mouth. He feels like his heart has stopped.

“W-we don’t know if it has a hold of his heart yet.” Ophilia says. “... But we know he’s spoken with it.”

“I see.” Primrose sounds uneasy.

Silence falls over the group in the clearing.

“Out of everyone, why must it have been _ Olberic _…” Primrose sighs.

“Olberic is trusting. It’s trying to take advantage of that, probably.” Alfyn speculates. He apologises when the bear growls.

“No, you have a point.” Primrose says.

Olberic can feel his free hand clench. He feels… _ angry _.

He can tell they’re speaking about Yо̄ko.

And it _ angers _him.

But it also makes him fearful. Fearful that these people were the ones hunting the girl.

_ ‘The ones who seek us may be closer than our fair Knight may think.’ _

Her words echo in his head.

… Why.

Why.

** _Why_ **.

That becomes the only question in his head.

It’s the only question in his head when he moves away from the tree.

It’s the only question in his head when he approaches those in the clearing.

“Sir Olberic.” Primrose’s eyes flash with a mixture of emotions. “What are you doing here?

“Why?” He finally asks aloud.

“I asked my question first.” She says, a hand resting on her hip.

“That doesn’t matter.” Olberic dismisses her question outright. “Now tell me why.”

“... Why what?” Alfyn asks.

“You know full well _ ‘what’ _.” The warrior snaps back.

Ophilia hesitates. “I’m… afraid we don’t, sir.”

The bear growls, teeth bared, as it rises to its full height. ‘Tis a huge beast, almost as tall as Olberic himself.

But it does little to sway the warrior. He’s wrestled with bears before.

He had become so occupied with the bear that he’d hardly noticed the strange staff in Ophilia’s hands, however.

“Please forgive me, sir.” She mutters, using said staff to cast a spell.

Light engulfs Olberic before he can act. It’s not exactly painful, but it is certainly… unpleasant.

He collapses to the ground moments later. Drained of the strength to move.

“I suppose it works as a temporary fix.” Primrose sighs, before turning to the bear. “Turns out you’ll have to join us after all.”

Olberic can feel his consciousness fading quickly, but before his loses it entirely, he sees the bear transform into a human. He cannot see details, but he can recognise who it is just moments before darkness envelops his vision.

It’s _ himself _.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on like. two levels of My Specific Brand of bullshit now :''')


	3. bear with me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spell has left Olberic in a situation unlike anything he's experienced before, but thankfully it would seem he's not alone in it.

Eyes are on him, Olberic can tell. He can’t tell who, though. He can’t move. Nor can he see anything in the darkness.

“We are so terribly sorry...”

It’s Yо̄ko’s voice.

“So terribly sorry things have turned out as they did.” She continues.

Faintly does Olberic hear the same blood chilling roar as he did in the valley.

“... The beasts roam, still.” Yо̄ko mutters, before addressing him again. “We fear we must part for the time being.”

A sharp jab at his side pulls him back into consciousness. He’s lying on the forest floor, in the clearing where he… ah...

Recollection of last night’s events come back to him, gradually - Ophilia, Alfyn and Primrose’s strange behaviour, and the bear, and the spell…

There’s another forceful prod into his side, and without moving his head, Olberic glances over to see a tabby.

“... Rose?” He mutters, his mind still in a haze. Though he does recall seeing the cat as he followed Alfyn. Maybe she followed him in turn?

Her tail twitches.

“ _ Primrose_.” She mews.

…

Maybe he’s still dreaming. Maybe everything has been a dream. He stares blankly at the cat whose voice sounds so much like the Primrose he knows.

“What’s with that look, hm?” A twitch of her ear as she makes her way closer to his face. “I suppose I should have expected you wouldn’t believe me. But if you get up, you might find it a _ little _less strange.”

She sits down, her tail curling neatly over her paws.

Olberic hesitates, unsure what she means in the slightest, but does as she suggests. Pushing himself up, it suddenly becomes _ very _clear.

Staring at his… _ paws _, Olberic is left at a loss for words. His hands are hands no longer - instead they are the paws resembling a bear. Complete with sharp, curled claws, and thick dark fur all along his… well, he supposes they would be front legs instead of arms, wouldn’t they.

“You’re a bear as much as I’m a cat.” She explains.

After a pause, Olberic shakes his head. Denying the reality of the situation.

‘Primrose’ asks him if he remembers the spell Ophilia cast on him.

“... Aye, I do. What of it?”

“That’s what made this happen. She did the same to me and the real Alfyn and Ophilia when they realised I was keeping watch the night before we got to Saintsbridge.”

“Hold on, you’re missing a lot of important details in that.” Olberic stops her, raising his… paw. _ Gods _, it looks so strange.

Primrose blinks, and backtracks her explanation with a sigh. “The night before we got to Saintsbidge, when I was keeping watch,” she begins, “I came across Ophilia. Only… it wasn’t _ really _Ophilia, who was sleeping soundly. She was with another Alfyn, as well as… well, you and I.”

Primrose stands back up, her tail flicking from one side to another.

“The imposters must not have realised I was awake when they approached, and so their Ophilia cast a spell to turn me into a cat. They then used the same spell on the _ real _Alfyn and Ophilia to turn them into animals, too, and took our places. I wasn’t really able to stick around much, unfortunately, not until you woke up.”

Her ears droop a little. “I was hoping H’aanit would be able to understand me, at least, but… I suppose we’re still too human for her to do so fully.”

Olberic stays quiet, staring in utter confusion.

Primrose sighs, before she raises a paw and lightly pricks his arm-- … front leg- _whatever _it is - with her claws.

It doesn’t exactly hurt, and certainly wasn’t enough to break the skin, but it does work to illustrate that he isn’t dreaming.

Primrose apologises, and she then turns around.

“Here, follow me. I’ll take you to Alfyn and Ophilia.”

Uncertain of what else he _ could _do, Olberic rises to his feet. He feels off balance, in a way. Four legs will take a while to get used to.

* * *

The path Primrose takes him down leads to another river, which she says they’ll follow until they reach where they want to get to.

Before they move on, however, Olberic finds himself gazing at his reflection. It’s… definitely a bear that looks back. He even notices some greying around his snout. _ ‘Of course there is’ _, he growls in annoyance.

His attention is brought away from his reflection by the sound of a bird taking off in the trees above them, but all he sees are the branches swaying in the aftermath.

His gaze lingers a few moments longer, before he continues on his way.

It keeps happening every so often as he follows Primrose, who has noticed it as well.

Nothing becomes of it, however, and they simply keep following the river.

“Prim!” A dog jumps out of the undergrowth. “You’re back!”

“Hello, Alfyn.” She greets him, before nodding to the deer that slowly emerges as well.

Olberic assumes that the deer is Ophilia.

Ophilia glances to Olberic, her head tilting to one side. “... You aren’t… Sir Olberic, are you?”

After a pause, Olberic nods. “It is me, I’m afraid.”

Primrose takes some time to briefly explain the situation, and Alfyn attempts to lighten the mood with a laugh.

“Well... I guess it’d make sense for ya to be a bear, huh?” He says.

Ophilia shakes her head with a sigh. “But… _ now _what do we do?” She asks. “None of us know how we can transform back, and no one would understand what we’re saying like this...”

“Let alone _ believe _us.” Alfyn adds with a whine.

Primrose stretches her back, and purrs. “I spent a lot of time following the imposters around yesterday.” She says. “They use some kind of illusion magic to alter their appearance to closer resemble us, which would explain how no one noticed that the other Primrose has much shorter hair, or the burn scar on the other Ophilia’s face.”

“... Do you think there’s a way to stop the illusion magic from working?” Alfyn tilts his head.

Primrose nods. “There is a way to dissipate illusions, yes. Unfortunately… the Professor is the only one we know who would know how to do that.”

Alfyn’s tail falls still.

“... So we just need to speak to Cyrus.” Olberic observes.

“But he won’t understand us, not while we’re animals.” Primrose retorts.

Olberic’s eyes narrow. “H’aanit did not _ fully _understand you, aye, but she could to an extent.”

Alfyn’s ears perk up.

Ophilia gasps. “Perhaps we could relay the message through Linde?”

Primrose looks hopeful for a few moments, before shaking her head. “Linde didn’t quite understand me either…”

Alfyn barks, louder than he’d perhaps expected, “Maybe you just weren’t saying it properly! It was still kinda recently that you’d become a cat at that point, right?”

Primrose hesitates, “I… suppose so.” She mutters.

“I think it’s worth trying.” Ophilia speaks up, her eyes determined. “But… that does leave the question of how we’ll _ find _Linde...”

“She should be with H’aanit, in Saintsbridge.” Olberic says, worry in his mind. “But the group will only be staying there for a day more at best. We must act before then.”

“What do you think we should do, sir?” Alfyn asks.

“... We go to Saintsbridge and find Linde or H’aanit, and request Cyrus’ help. Both with dispersing the illusions on our doppelgängers, and with transforming us back into humans.” The warrior answers.

Primrose sighs. “I don’t think we can just walk into Saintsbridge without a care.”

A retort writ clear in Olberic’s eyes, Alfyn answers. “You’re a _ bear _, sir. People in the Riverlands aren’t used to seein’ those. Let alone ones that’ll saunter into human settlements.”

“‘Tis a risk I am willing to take.” Olberic growls. “We don’t have time for hesitation.”

A caw from above them draws the group’s eyes to the canopy.

There, in the branches, a raven is perched. Eyeing them with a piercing gaze.

“You... You’ve been following us, haven’t you?” Primrose asks, her pupils narrowed.

The raven throws his head back in what sounds to be laughter.

“You would be correct!” He caws, before making his way to the ground, giving a few little hops to make sure he was balanced.

It’s then that Alfyn in particular snarls a little. “Eugh, you reek of... _ corpses _.”

Olberic can smell it, too, but he is more accustomed to the scent of death than he cares to admit.

What unsettles him more is the raven’s eyes. They’re an unnatural blood red.

“Forgive me,” the raven sighs. “I could not help but hear your conversations. And being the kind, compassionate, empathetic soul that I am, I would like to offer my assistance! … Under a few conditions, of course.”

_ Humility _certainly isn’t in whatever list the raven has in his mind. Something tells Olberic that it’s obnoxiously long as is.

“... Who are you?” Ophilia asks, breaking the silence that had befell the group.

“Ah, I suppose that was rather rude of me, wasn’t it?” The raven bows in a bizarrely human looking motion, using his wings more like arms than anything else. “You can call me--… _ Jusqua _.”

The hesitation before he named himself immediately informed Olberic that he was lying, but the warrior decides to keep quiet.

“What help could _ you _offer us?” Primrose inquires, her voice only just hiding the annoyance behind it.

The look in ‘Jusqua’s’ eyes could tell anyone that he would be grinning. “You are aware ravens are capable of mimicking some human speech, yes? I’ll admit I am not the most experienced in it, but I could provide some assistance when you are trying to communicate with your human friend.”

He is met with stunned silence, and he laughs.

“... And what _ conditions _do you ask for?” Primrose asks tentatively, after she collects herself.

“Oh, not _ much _…” he says, “I would request that - once you are all back to being human, of course - I am given the Transform Staff. Oh, right, I forgot to mention that the Transform Staff is what turned you into animals, and is the only way to turn you back.”

Another silence.

“Did I neglect to mention that I have a rather extensive knowledge of magic? Oh, well, I have that going for me as well. Hmhm~!” Jusqua seems to have a habit of rambling. Yet Olberic finds him more _ unsettling _than annoying.

“So what say you, fair travellers? Will you accept my help, and succeed? Or will you decline, and probably fail?” Jusqua takes a few hops towards Primrose, awaiting her answer.

Primrose glances to Alfyn, Ophilia, and Olberic in turn, and sighs slowly. “I… guess we will.”

“Excellent! To Saintsbridge, then!” His outburst almost interrupts her answer, and Olberic begins to regret their choice immediately.

* * *

Jusqua makes himself comfortable on Olberic’s back as they make their way to Saintsbridge. He claims he’s doing his best not to dig his talons into the skin, but Olberic remains fairly unconvinced.

“... Warrior?” Jusqua attempts to get Olberic’s attention.

“How do you-”

“I can sense Brand’s influence. And besides, you are the Unbending Blade, no?” Barely even letting Olberic speak, the raven continues. “Anyway, I wished to ask a favour of you.”

When Jusqua doesn’t just immediately say it, Olberic tentatively asks what that favour would be.

“Hmm… How do I put it?” The raven wonders aloud. Eventually, he bends down to be closer to Olberic’s ear and speaks in a lower voice. “Well… keep this between us, but when this is all done - when you’re all back to being humans… I want you to let me into your heart.”

Olberic almost stops where he is, but he doesn’t for fear of making a scene.

“You _ what _?” He hisses back.

“Or what’s left of it, at least.” Jusqua shrugs in amusement, before his eyes return to bore into Olberic’s own and whispers, “I _ know _there’s something in there already, and I want to know what it is.”

“... No.” Olberic growls.

Jusqua sighs heavily, and his wings droop in dejection. “A _ tragedy _, to be certain… I’m sure you’ll change your mind eventually, however…”

_ ‘Not on your life.’ _ Olberic huffs as the statement stays in his head. Something tells him that arguing will lead nowhere.

He can’t help but dwell on the way Jusqua worded it, though. ‘Something in his heart’. It doesn’t sound all that different from what the doppelgängers were talking about last night. If his suspicions are correct, Olberic doesn’t want this raven anywhere near Yо̄ko, he can barely stand Jusqua’s presence _ himself _ whenever the raven talks.

There’s something in the way the raven speaks. Something about the way he acts. _ Something _ makes him deeply unsettling but Olberic cannot pin down _ what _. Perhaps it is simply the stench of death that clings to him like demons cling to Olberic’s heart, but… no, no that cannot be the only reason. Olberic has been surrounded by people of whom death’s stench clings to, himself included at times.

Something just… makes his skin crawl. Some kind of presence.

Olberic had been so occupied trying to place what unsettled him about the raven, that he’d hardly noticed they had found their way back to Saintsbridge.

The group stops in their tracks, and Primrose turns around.

“Ok, we are looking for Linde and H’aanit. We _ should _find them together.” She says.

Ophilia glances over to Olberic, worry in her eyes. “Are you… sure about coming with us, sir?”

Olberic nods.

“I am uncertain what our doppelgängers will try to do if they find us, but I am fairly confident that I can handle them should the matter arise.” He explains.

Alfyn takes a breath, and nods slowly. “All right. Let’s go, then.”


	4. blood-eyed raven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering Saintsbridge is fairly simple, but Olberic ends up with more questions.  
Thankfully, he is granted the chance to get at least a few answers. Though he can't exactly say he's thrilled about how he'll get them.

In truth, Olberic had been expecting to be confronted the moment someone laid eyes on him. But they… didn't. Most people just look on in confusion. Though, in their defence, it is a strange sight - a cat, a dog, a deer, a bear, and a raven all walking into a human town as though they were humans themselves. (Which they are, of course, but none knew that).

One person does lock eyes with him. Eyes Olberic knows all too well. Erhardt's.

Olberic stops in his tracks.  _ 'Oh Gods, why must he see me like  _ ** _this_ ** _ …' _ he curses under his breath as the Blazing Blade stares back in confusion.

He looks like his mind is elsewhere, though.

"You’re quite far from home, aren’t you?" He says. "... You wouldn't have happened to see Olberic around, have you."

Ah.

Of course. He had disappeared in the middle of the night. No one would have known where he had gone.

But… wait. Wasn't the doppelgänger supposed to have taken his place?

Olberic, well aware of how fruitless his attempts would be, tries to tell Erhardt who he is..

Erhardt sighs, eyes hiding an emotion Olberic can’t place as he gently holds the sides of Olberic's face, his hands deep in the thick fur.

"Didn't think so." He guesses entirely wrong what Olberic had tried to tell him. "I just figured I'd ask... He's always had an affinity for all sorts of animals. Especially big, fluffy, and strong bears like you."

Olberic tilts his head into Erhardt's dominant hand - his left - with a small grunt. They keep staring at each other. He can just tell Jusqua is rolling his eyes, but the warrior cares not.

_ 'If only you knew.' _ Olberic wills his eyes to say. He knows it would do nothing, alas.

Erhardt does furrow his brow, though.

"It's strange… you have eyes just like his."

He pauses, before shaking his head with a sad smile. "But as much as Olberic may be physically  _ like _ a bear, he isn't  _ literally _ ."

Erhardt moves his right hand to pet Olberic's shoulder. It feels… strange. But not unpleasant.

Jusqua groans. Before finally cawing at Erhardt to get his attention.

"Sword." He caws. Olberic supposes it would make sense that the raven can only mimic simple words. It's still remarkable how accurate it sounds, though.

Erhardt blinks in bemusement. "Sword?" He repeats.

"Get sword." Jusqua caws.

Erhardt repeats him again, slowly. "Whose? …  _ Olberic’s _ ?"

Olberic gives a little huff, and Jusqua flutters his wings a bit, and makes a noise that sounds like "Yes."

Erhardt, with the information dawning on him that the raven seemed to have understood what he had said, stands back up. Giving Olberic one last pet on his head, Erhardt makes for the inn.

It's only now that Olberic realises that the others have continued moving without him, but they’re still within his sight, at least.

It doesn't take long for Erhard to return - scabbard, sword, and belt in hand.

Olberic can't stand Erhardt's distant gaze, he fears it will rip his chest asunder. He forcefully pushes his head into Erhardt's hands when he’s back in front of him. He catches Erhardt's gaze again, desperate, so very  _ desperate _ for him to realise the truth.

"... Olberic?" Erhardt's voice is so quiet, so hesitant and uncertain.

Olberic nods. Once, and very deliberately.

Jusqua caws 'yes' again.

"That’s… no, it couldn’t." He denies, with an awkward smile.

Slowly, he moves his arms around Olberic's neck. “You seem so much like him, though.”

He tries to lift a paw up to return the hug. It doesn’t go as well as he had hoped, but it will do for now.

It will do for now, because it shouldn't be long before he returns to his usual form.

Jusqua groans. "Are you done?" He asks the bear. Olberic nods.

The raven turns his attention to Erhardt again, and flutters down to the sword. "Bring." He caws.

Erhardt nods slowly, and picks the sword back up.

Hopping back up onto Olberic's back, he caws again. "Linde." He tries to say this time.

It doesn't quite work, but it's accurate enough that Erhardt seems to understand.

"Linde..." He repeats, before nodding. “She’s… with those other animals over there. The ones you came here with, right?”

They waste no time catching up with the rest of the group.

"More?" the snow leopard asks, glancing to Olberic and Jusqua as they approach.

"Yes. Olberic." Primrose meows.

"It still doth make no sense. I hath caught sight of all thee claim thyselves to be today, as humans." She ponders.

Alfyn shakes his head with a whine. "Those aren't the real ones." He says. "You gotta tell H'aanit that she needs to talk to Cyrus about dispelling illusion magic."

Linde stares blankly. "… Thou wish I speaketh to H'aanit?"

Olberic growls, his impatience growing. "Thou must speaketh with H'aanit, aye." He says, slowly. "We do not have much time. Tell H'aanit that she must speak with th' scholar, she must request he dispels the magic on our human selves. We beseech thee."

Linde's eyes narrow, and she nods in understanding. "I shall see it done." She says, bounding off to find her human companion.

Jusqua laughs. "That’s one way to do it..."

Things were perhaps going  _ too  _ well, alas, as they are approached by the other Ophilia and Olberic.

Erhardt is confused, of course. Olberic can only hope he will not begin doubt what transpired earlier too quickly.

"Staff." Jusqua caws. 

The other Ophilia bows her head in shame. It feels… genuine.

"I should have known you wouldn't forgive me… I'm so sorry." she says. " _ Please _ , we just need a little more time, then we will leave you alone like none of this ever happened."

Alfyn growls, and Olberic rises up onto his hind legs. Primrose keeps her eyes fixed on the two of them, and Ophilia glances warily down the path Linde went.

The human Ophilia's grip on the staff stays tight. While the other Olberic keeps a close watch on the bear, ready for him to make some sort of move.

Erhardt attempts to talk to the other Olberic, asking what in the hells was happening, but for some reason the other Olberic takes a step back and drops his gaze, refusing to answer. It almost looks like he does so in  _ fear _ .

A yowl comes from the bridge, Linde has returned with both H'aanit and Cyrus.

While distracted in that brief moment, Jusqua flies towards the human Ophilia and grasps the staff in his talons. Ophilia inhales sharply as though in pain, and Jusqua seems to try to get as close to her as possible, before he wrests the staff out of her weakened grip before the other Olberic can react accordingly.

The other Ophilia drops to her knees, clutching her chest in pain and her breathing ragged.

The other Olberic tries to help her back to her feet as quickly as possible, and he glares at the raven.

"Despicable even for you." He snarls, quietly.

Jusqua practically cackles, before using the staff to restore the animals to their true forms.

In that same moment, it seems Cyrus had dispelled the illusion magic, as when the light of the staff's magic fades and Olberic, Primrose, Alfyn, and Ophilia all stand returned to human form, the other two appear slightly different.

It becomes very apparent that the other Ophilia has a burn scar on her face. Not only that, but it has a dark purple colour.

Erhardt looks on, speechless and entirely lost.

Olberic finally gets the chance to look at his doppelgänger's true face. And when their eyes meet, Olberic almost begins to feel sick.

So hollow are his other's eyes. He is so much more scarred and grey, but those details hardly go noticed.

His eyes are what truly scares Olberic.

What hells have those eyes witnessed to be so dead.

… Are they a reflection of his own?

The other Ophilia's breathing seems to have evened out a little, but she still appears to be in pain, and she clings to the other Olberic to stay standing.

Jusqua lands on a roof, cawing mockingly.

The other Olberic seems furious, but he only mutters something under his breath and he falls back with Ophilia limping at his side.

Once gone, Erhardt finally finds the words to speak. But it's only one word.

"What…"

Primrose exhales, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's… a lot to explain, and we don't fully understand it either. How about we tell you once we join up with H'aanit and the Professor?"

Erhardt nods in agreement, and follows her, Alfyn and Ophilia to the bridge.

Olberic finds himself rooted on the spot, however. Unable to stop thinking of his doppelgänger's haunted eyes.

Jusqua flies back down, the Transform Staff still firmly in his talons.

It helps snap Olberic back to reality, at least, and he then takes the staff from the raven.

It's fairly light, and rather small. But the design is intricate, adorned with a blue jewel. He cannot tell what sort of wood it was made from.

Jusqua caws again, turning around and hopping towards the bridge where the others were.

Without much thought, Olberic points the staff at the raven and the jewel lights up as the spell is cast again.

The light disappears, and in the raven's place is a sight that chills Olberic to the bone.

The figure turns his head, slowly. And Olberic finds himself unable to breathe.

"Warn me next time, won't you?" He laughs, chagrin dripping from his tongue.

His unwavering blood red gaze drills right through Olberic.

"...  _ Cyrus _ ?" Olberic finds his name is the only thing he can say.

The former-raven's eye twitches, and he turns around fully. "... You caught me." He says, throwing his arms up.

“You are…  _ Cyrus _ .” Olberic finds that is the only words he can bring himself to say.

The red eyed scholar quickly closes the gap between them and holds a finger up to Olberic’s lips, telling him to stay quiet.

“I can explain…  _ most  _ things. But not here. Here, I’m being monitored to the Infernal Realm and back.” He whispers, eyes darting towards the bridge where the others were. They seem preoccupied with speaking to one another.

“I may very well get sent straight back to Fort-Lune, even, considering what I did to the poor Vestal...”

“Wha--”

“I cannot. Answer. Your questions. Here.” Cyrus hisses. “My very existence is supposed to be classified. If the higher ups find out about this, they’ll practically have my head… But there is  _ one  _ way I can explain things to you.”

Olberic waits for Cyrus to continue, but when he doesn’t, Olberic slowly asks what that would be.

Cyrus grins, and (using Olberic’s shoulder as a perch for his arm) closes the gap further and rests his chin on one hand. His other hand taps a finger against Olberic’s chest.

“You need to let me in here. Your tattered remains of a heart.” He laughs.

Before Olberic can object, Cyrus reiterates. “‘Tis the only way I can tell you at least a little of what’s happening, warrior.”

He sighs, gaze softening ever so slightly as he continues, “I may be affiliated with her enemy, but I give you my word, I will leave Yо̄ko alone. She won’t even know I’m there.”

Olberic hesitates.

“Why?”

“I have other priorities.”

Silence washes over them. And with a sigh, Olberic hesitantly concedes.

“... I will hold you to that word.” He warns the scholar, warily.

Cyrus’ grin widens. “I told you that you would change your mind.”

The warrior has half a mind to take it back, but Cyrus whispers again.   
“Now then, before I cast the spell, I need you to know that the Vestal  _ will  _ know I have done something. So when it’s over I need to get far away from you.” His eyes glance down to the staff in Olberic’s hand.

“Which is something I can do as a raven.” He finishes.

Taking the Transform Staff from Olberic’s grip, Cyrus nods slowly, before he reveals a stone in the palm of his other hand.

A  _ blood  _ stone. Olberic recognises it immediately from the ones they encountered in the Quarrycrest sewers.

Cyrus utters a few words under his breath, words Olberic understands as High Hornburgian, and the stone glows.

Then he feels it. Like something is tearing at his heart, but Olberic wills himself to stay where he is, vile though the feeling may be.

The light from the stone fades, and Cyrus is left panting heavily, his energy drained.

He barely hesitates. Leaning up, Cyrus whispers, “I’ll see you later. And by the way, you may want to talk to the Blazing Blade about his nightmares.” Giving Olberic no time to respond, Cyrus uses the staff to transform back into a raven and flies off.

Olberic is left on his own, clutching at his chest.

Distantly, he hears Erhardt calling his name.

Cyrus’ parting words linger in his mind as Olberic rejoins the group.

* * *

The words linger still every time Olberic notices how tired Erhardt looks. But he isn’t too sure how to bring it up.

In the end, he doesn’t have to.

“Sorry, I’ve been… kind of out of it today.” Erhardt sighs.

Olberic pauses. “... Trouble sleeping?”

Erhardt’s eyes narrow, seemingly trying to figure out if it was that easy to tell. He nods, slowly.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Erhardt hums. “Guess I should.” He takes a breath, and hands mindlessly run through his hair.

“I’m always in… what’s left of a battlefield.” He begins. “Not one I recognise, though. And there’s no… wind. There’s not even any waves, and the clouds seem to be stuck in place. I end up wandering into a town which I also don’t recognise, located at the base of a volcano, where everything is… entirely still. Everyone is like… statues. Sometimes they’ll mutter something, but it’s never something I can understand.”

He pauses, to shift his body in order to huddle closer to Olberic. His gaze remains distant.

“Sometimes they’ll all begin talking at once, and it gets overwhelming. But I’m lucky when it ends there.”

Erhardt closes his eyes with a sigh. “If I don’t wake up then, I end up back outside the town. And there… There I encounter a huge beast. Nothing I do so much as  _ tickles  _ it. Sometimes you’re there, too, and you are just as powerless… No matter what, we end up slain by it. It’s blood chilling roar is always the last thing I hear.”

Olberic tenses.

“Do you… remember what it looks like?” He asks, his words slow.

Erhardt shrugs. “It changes from time to time,” he explains, “but a lot of the time it’s… I don’t know, it looks like it’s made of  _ snow _ . With metal… poles sticking out of it, and a blade on its head, and it’s teeth are… icicles, dripping with blood.”

Erhardt’s description sounds bizarrely like the imagery Olberic has come across in his dreams before.

Olberic sighs, uncertain what he could say. In the end he simply wraps his arms around Erhardt in an attempt of comfort, an action that the other seems to appreciate.

“I don’t know. Normally it doesn’t bother me this much, I just… when I woke from that dream and you weren’t there, it…” Erhardt trails off.

Olberic tightens his embrace. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it back. You have my word that I will stay with you tonight.”

Erhardt hums, burying his face in Olberic’s chest and sliding his hands up Olberic’s back until they reach his shoulder blades.

He looks like he could fall asleep right then and there, and if he did, Olberic wouldn’t mind in the least. It has certainly been… an  _ eventful  _ day.

“On a lighter note… you didn’t look all that different as a bear, to be honest.” Erhardt mutters with amusement in his tone, his voice muffled as he refuses to move his face.

Olberic can’t help but laugh a little, idly combing his hands through Erhardt’s mess of hair.

* * *

When sleep brings Olberic back to the abandoned tower, he finds himself not in the company of the person he had been expecting.

Yо̄ko is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, he finds himself face to face with the red eyed Cyrus again.

“Everlast Tower…” the scholar mutters. “An odd choice of location.” When Cyrus catches sight of Olberic, however, he grins. “Hello again, Unbending Blade!”

Olberic could tell this may end up being a long night.


	5. to: fort-lune.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scholar's gaze drops with a sigh, after a while. "I understand it can be confusing, but it doesn't take long to get used to." The grin returns, perhaps all too suddenly. "Ah, I should probably leave you be. The fox will be here soon. 'Twould be… bothersome if she knew I was here, but I'll be back."
> 
> Cyrus turns to leave, but he hesitates. "A word of advice… Olberic, you would be better off not blindly believing everything the fox tells you."
> 
> And with that, he steps out into the cold, still world outside the tower.

“So,” Cyrus claps his hands together. “Pray tell, did you speak to the Blazing Blade about his dreams?”

Olberic hesitates, glancing away from the scholar’s… staring eyes. Gods, does he ever  _ blink _ ?

“Aye, I did.” He admits.

“Excellent.” Gleeful is the scholar’s tone as he approaches. “... So, would you be so kind as to describe them to me?”

The warrior scowls. “You have some explaining to do first.”

A smirk crosses Cyrus’ lips as he gently touches Olberic’s arm. “We still have some time before I can provide you with… more context. But I  _ promise  _ you, I will.”

Moments pass, before Olberic pulls his arm away from the scholar. He continues to contemplate actually saying anything. It’s not really his place to speak of such matters, after all.

“It’s not too unlike yours, isn’t it?” Cyrus asks, laughing as he recognises the slight reaction from the warrior as a ‘yes’. “Interesting, interesting…” He perks up not long afterwards, and his eye twitches slightly. “Ah, it’s time.”

“... Time for what.”

“You’ll see. Now, I will warn you this may be… a little strange? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your presence goes unnoticed. Just don’t bother moving, I’m not having you  _ possess  _ me, per se.”

_ What _ ?

Cyrus takes his hand, an odd look in his eyes that Olberic isn’t able to place in time.

* * *

Eyes flicker open, to find themselves in a forest. The thick canopy and fog covered ground leads Olberic to believe it to be the Murkwood.

He can’t feel anything, though, and black hair frames his vision. The body moves on its own, and Cyrus’ words begin to dawn on him.

A strange, electric like sound emits from somewhere behind him. Cyrus turns his head, and Olberic sees it originated from a bracelet Primrose holds up close to her face.

“Primrose, reporting.”

An unknown voice emits from the bracelet’s light. “Hello, Primrose! How are things on your end?”

She hesitates. “Yew... I’ll give you the good news first. We know the fox is here, and have roughly narrowed down where she is hiding.”

The voice takes a little while to speak up again. “I see… What’s the bad news?”

“We’ve run into some…  _ complications _ . We think the fox has created a rift, and she has remained here despite knowing we are following her.”

She sighs heavily, and continues, “And… some have become aware of our presence. But the rift poses too much of a risk for us to attempt altering their memories yet. It was my own lack of foresight that caused this, and I assume full responsibility for these mistakes.”

“Hey, it happens sometimes. I’m sure it’ll be fine... What sort of problems has the rift caused so far, by the way?”

“Locations of Luxendarc are appearing from time to time. They have remained mostly confined to the unconscious minds of the world’s inhabitants, but I fear it will escalate quickly if we do not act… Especially considering there are Ba’als present in these dreams.”

Silence falls heavy, not unlike the fog around them.

“I see.”

“Please know that my team and I will continue to do what we can. That is all.”

With that, the light disappears and Primrose lowers her arm. A moment of pause, before she turns to Cyrus.

And Olberic’s vision goes dark.

* * *

“Terribly sorry to cut it off so suddenly, they still think I’m unconscious.” Cyrus laughs, closely eyeing a very disoriented Olberic. “... Hm, worked with less adverse effects than I’d suspected.” He mutters under his breath.

“...  _ Adverse effects _ ?” Olberic finally finds himself able to speak once more, still getting used to being able to feel his limbs again.

Cyrus waves a hand dismissively, “Certain magics always come with risks, blood magic being particularly temperamental when used by someone not used to it. Anyway, did that context help you understand?”

Olberic had been so caught up with being back in his own body that he’d hardly given thought to the conversation he had heard.

“... It doesn’t explain why you and the other doppelgängers are even here.” His brow furrows, and he looks Cyrus in the eyes again.

Cyrus’ head tilts to one side and his face briefly twitches into an expression of annoyance. “We aren’t  _ doppelgängers _ , warrior. We simply come from worlds that aren’t this one.” His eyes narrow when he is met with silence. “Oh, right, you wouldn’t know about the fact that countless worlds exist parallel to each other… We have lived almost identical lives to you, there was simply… enough  _ differences _ here and there to bring us where we are, instead of remaining like your world’s." The scholar doesn't explain it much further than that, however.

Olberic stays quiet as he processes the information. Cyrus stares at him all the while, though for once he looks more like the Cyrus that Olberic has known - barring the pigment of his eyes.

The scholar's gaze drops with a sigh, after a while. "I understand it can be confusing, but it doesn't take long to get used to." The grin returns, perhaps all too suddenly. "Ah, I should probably leave you be. The fox will be here soon. 'Twould be…  _ bothersome _ if she knew I was here, but I'll be back."

Cyrus turns to leave, but he hesitates. "A word of advice… Olberic, you would be better off not blindly believing  _ everything _ the fox tells you."

And with that, he steps out into the cold, still world outside the tower.

… Still? Every other time has seen a snowstorm outside. Unable to place what seems so off, he approaches the entrance. Whatever snow was falling is suspended in the air, the wind stopped and the cold gone. And there, in the distance, Olberic sees it. A beast made of snow - slug like in shape, blood dripping from it's mouth and poles sticking out of it's back. The sight of it leaves Olberic's heart in his throat. He doesn't need to know what it is to feel the bloodlust seeping from it, the desire for naught but destruction for destruction's sake, a hunger for despair.

"'Tis a frightful beast, is it not?"

Yо̄ko's voice is sudden, causing Olberic to jump.

She laughs, "We are so sorry! It was not at all our intention to scare our fair Knight."

Olberic shakes his head after a pause, “You did nothing of the sort.”

Yо̄ko smiles, covering it slightly with her hands "If that is what our fair Knight wants us to believe. But there is nothing wrong with fearing a beast not of this realm, created by a long dead god for the very purpose of reaping such despair. But this place is only a memory of the land, that beast and others like it do not roam freely anymore." She takes Olberic's hand and leads him back away from the tower's entrance.

"We do have good news, however!" She exclaims, clapping her hands together. "We know where our Knight may find the light and dark dragonstones."

Olberic ignores the scholar's warning that remains in the back of his mind and listens.

"The lands where the Jabberwock and Shinryu once roamed can be found in the Woodlands and Flatlands respectively. You will take us there, yes? We fear we may not make it alone..."

Olberic nods with a smile. "I have sworn an oath, have I not? Of course I will help you get there."

Yо̄ko giggles as she hugs him, her yellow eyes bright with gratitude.

And those eyes dispel his doubts.

"I'm unsure how long it will take, alas. The Woodlands are in the opposite direction of where we intend to head next." He explains.

Yо̄ko pauses. "Who said our fair Knight would  _ need _ to travel with others?"

Olberic opens his mouth to object to the idea, but Yо̄ko shakes her head.

"We jest, of course. You have our trust." She says. "Whatever you choose, we shall agree with."

She hugs him again, grinning. "With you, we are safe. We know this to be true."

Olberic returns the hug, realising only now that he could easily draw comparisons to Philip, or even the other travellers. It just... suddenly makes more sense in his mind.

He has not for very long in truth, but in his heart it feels like he has known Yо̄ko for a long time, years even.

And he'll be damned if he allows any harm to come to her - be it from other versions of himself and his companions, ethereal beasts, or otherwise.

Yо̄ko sighs. "Dawn comes, and so you must leave this place again." She mutters, her brow furrowed.

Olberic hesitates, before taking her hand. "I ken not if it's possible, but you are free to speak to me during the day if you wish."

A smile crosses her face, but there remains a sad look in her eyes. "We greatly appreciate our Knight's offer. Maybe one day soon we shall be able to… Until we meet again."

* * *

When Olberic wakes, he finds Erhardt huddled close with muscles tense.

He must be having the nightmare he described to Olberic again. Hesitation becomes uncertainty of what else he could do as Olberic gently wraps an arm around him, shifting his body in turn. Erhardt’s body seems to relax a little, but he does not wake, thankfully.

It doesn't take long for Cyrus to shuffle his body closer, lightly pressing into Olberic's back.

Olberic wonders for a moment if the scholar has continued to have dreams of the fox. Has he also encountered Yо̄ko face to face?

… Perhaps he could inquire later. For now, he simply wishes to make sure Erhardt will be all right. Olberic had sworn he would be there when Erhardt awoke, after all.

Erhardt tries to huddle closer, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

…

Olberic kisses Erhardt’s head with a soft sigh. Never could he leave for the Woodlands or Flatlands without them. These quiet moments, these companionships, they mean too much to take so lightly.


	6. another space.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olberic is immediately alert upon hearing the voice. It sounds so familiar, but… no, it-- it couldn’t be.  
But it can’t be a coincidence. To say it in exactly the same way, in the same tone, at the same speed. The chances of a coincidence are just too small.

The Riverlands sun beats down, growing ever harsher and drier as the group approach the Sunlands, slowly but most certainly. Oh, how Olberic despises the heat.

Travelling the Sunlands in the height of the day is nothing short of asking for disaster, however, so they will at least avoid those hours as much as possible. Travelling at night is a risk all it's own, considering the lower visibility and the higher chance of being ambushed by monsters. Olberic must admit, though, that he would personally take his chances with the monsters than the unbearably high temperatures.

Of course, they haven't even reached the edge of the Riverlands yet, so that will still be a while.

Alas, the temperatures are still far too high, so he has already rid himself of his upper clothes (partially by Alfyn's advice, who has also declared himself to be concerned about the warrior getting heatstroke, which he is… apparently more susceptible to than others). As they walk, Olberic realises that Cyrus averts his gaze as much as possible. While Erhardt, on the other hand, seems to welcome these circumstances.

Olberic sighs. "This is far from the first time, Cyrus. I truly care not if you look."

The scholar keeps his eyes fixed in front of him, however, and he seems quite red in the face. Erhardt laughs, and he mercilessly takes the scholar's arm on the side Olberic isn't on. The three currently make up the back of the group, so it's unlikely that the others will overhear.

… 'Unlikely' is the key word. Cyrus and Erhardt both project their voices far more habitually than Olberic.

"Oh, let the poor man live, Olberic. You know how easy it is to fluster him." Erhardt grins, whilst demonstrating deliberate hypocrisy as he himself seems to make Cyrus only blush deeper with his proximity alone.

Olberic simply shakes his head with a sigh.

"There's--... There is a time… and a place, the _ both _ of you." Cyrus says, his eyes closed (perhaps for focus, the wee soul). "And it's simply _ not _ now."

Erhardt laughs again, before he pats the scholar on the back and moves a little bit away. "You're right, you're right…" he says, throwing his hands up. Gods, Erhardt can be truly incorrigible. Olberic is all too aware of what Cyrus must be feeling, the warrior has been in his position many times in the past, after all.

… But he has also been in _ Erhardt’s _position many times, too.

Nevertheless, Cyrus doesn’t seem to mind it too much.

* * *

As they walk, however, Olberic becomes increasingly more on edge. Like something is following them again. But as his eyes keep watch on their surroundings, he finds nothing. He begins to realise _that_ may be what’s wrong. It’s _ too _quiet. He hasn’t seen even the smallest insect for a long time.

It makes him anxious.

Especially when he could swear he hears the roar of that snow beast again. Distant, quiet, but no less terrifying.

It would seem he is not alone in noticing that something is off, at least. Erhardt and Cyrus both appear to be more vigilant than usual.

But even if the rest of them notice, it does naught to ease his tense muscles, the horrid pit in his stomach, or his grip around the hilt of his blade.

In that instant, the land seems to jolt. It tears right into Olberic, and no doubt it does the same for the others. When he draws his blade, however, Olberic realises that he is no longer in the Riverlands. The land around him feels not even remotely familiar.

Somewhere nearby, he hears Tressa express confusion. He calls her over, and thankfully she seems to be unharmed.

"The hell is going on _ now _…?" She asks, mostly to herself as she glances around her.

Olberic sighs, no less clueless than Tressa.

They decide to look around, perhaps they will be able to rejoin the others as they do.

The land is unfamiliar, but not _entirely_, in a... strange way he cannot place. Flowers surround them, most of them he does not recognise. Not that Olberic has any particularly vast knowledge of flowers for it to matter, he mostly knows the ones that can be dangerous in the Highlands, and… that's about it.

As they slowly make their way through, the pair encounter a patch of purple blooms. Tressa is about to move closer to inspect them, when Olberic holds her back.

"They don't seem like ordinary flowers." He explains.

"Ah-... right…" Glancing around, Tressa finds a stick and uses that to tentatively poke at them from a distance.

When she does, a cloud of strange looking pollen is let loose, drift upwards. "... Good thing you warned me, huh." She mutters, staring at the cloud and taking a step back to be safe.

"D'you think Alf would know what kind of flower it is?" She asks.

"Alfyn or Cyrus, at least. Perhaps H'aanit." Olberic speculates, scanning his surroundings... only for it to be further established that he doesn't recognise most of the flora.

After a pause, Tressa finally takes her eyes off the flowers. "Let's keep going." She says, spinning on her heel to continue in the direction they were slowly heading.

Olberic makes a point to remain close, reluctant to sheathe his blade lest the monsters that roam decide to attack. (For the most part, they seem to be minding their own business, which is… strange in and of itself, truthfully).

Tressa seems very interested in the sights around them, she keeps making detours and pausing their advance to get a closer look. _ ‘At least she’s not letting herself get _ too _ worried’ _ , Olberic thinks, which is more than what he can say about himself. But he has always been one to worry, a habit he has his father to thank for. Olberic recalls Heinrich would always fret so much when Brünhild left for battle, no matter how many times she would assure him by demonstrating her nigh _inhuman _skill.

But Olberic is letting himself get distracted. Which can be the difference between life and death in a situation like this.

As they keep going, Olberic can feel himself getting more and more frustrated. So far they have found nothing of particular note, just flowers almost as far as the eye could see.

Tressa sighs and sits down, tired from all the non-stop walking. Olberic, though reluctant, joins her.

“There must be _ something _nearby that could help us figure out where we are…” Tressa mutters, letting the straps of her bag fall off her shoulders and she leans back on it. “It’s a pretty place, though.” She takes another glance around, particularly of the flowers.

Olberic hums in agreement, though he keeps his sword in hand.

While he keeps watch, however, he begins to notice something keeps catching his attention in the corner of his eye. But he never looks quickly enough to see what it is. So he keeps his gaze fixed where he saw the movement, and… realises that it was caused by a shift in the environment. Unless something is off with his sight, it looks like the space itself is flickering.

Warily, he glances back to Tressa, who hasn’t noticed such.

_“Good. Again.”_

Olberic is immediately alert upon hearing the voice. It sounds so familiar, but… no, it-- it _ couldn’t _ be.

But it can’t be a coincidence. To say it in exactly the same way, in the same tone, at the same speed. The chances of a coincidence are just too small.

His eyes dart back to Tressa, who did the same.

“Did you hear that, Sir?”

“Aye.”

“... You almost look like you recognised it.”

Olberic hesitates.

“It just… sounds like someone I once knew, a long time ago.”

Tressa tilts her head, but refrains from asking further.

They hear another sound, the ringing of swords colliding, and head towards it with caution.

Olberic can hear the swords less as they approach, drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat.

The flickering becomes increasingly more visible, until the world shifts like it did before.

Only this time, it is _ very _familiar to Olberic.

They are greeted by the sight of a young boy, being trained by what appears to be his mother.

The boy strikes the woman’s sword with a great deal of force, but she doesn’t budge in the slightest. She holds him there for a few moments, before pushing him back with ease.

“... Getting better.” She says. The boy’s face lights up as he moves his long black hair from his face, and the woman sheathes her blade. “That’s enough for now.”

Tressa looks to Olberic in confusion, who just stares on.

She looks closer. “Sir Olberic, you… you’re shaking.” She says, quietly. But it’s loud enough for Olberic to hear. “Are you ok?”

Olberic manages to tear his eyes away from the sight, and nods. “I will be fine.” It’s not entirely false, at least.

Tressa furrows her brow. “Are you sure? You-- I think you’re crying...”

Olberic wipes his eyes, only to learn that his glove is slightly wet. Tressa was right.

“... Do you know who that woman was?” Tressa asks, after a long pause.

“Aye, but…” But she’s _ dead _. Even if she had survived, she would be much older than she looked there.

The boy leaves once giving the woman his sword, wasting no time to remove the hair tie he was using.

The woman’s expression doesn’t change, she simply watches him leave.

When she turns and ends up facing Olberic and Tressa, Olberic feels his heart stop.

He has no time to think as she begins to approach.

“Brü--”

She does not stop, doesn’t so much as notice him as she walks right through him.

Olberic’s blood turns to ice. There was no mistaking who it was. But she isn’t real. She _did_ die that day... Right? He would have heard otherwise.

But at least things may make a little more sense.

Tressa glances behind her, where the woman was, and back to Olberic. “Who… is it?” She asks.

Hesitation halts his tongue, before he forces it to move.

“... Brünhild Eisenberg. My mother. And--... that boy was myself, so many years ago.”

Tressa’s eyes widen. “She’s--? But… then how can the kid be-”

“I am uncertain, but… I believe this may be a vision of the past, of sorts.”

Olberic recalls the other Primrose’s words, about a rift. This may be what she was talking about.

Tressa looks away, trying to make sense of it.

“She’s… your mother...” she repeats, before laughing slightly. “I guess it makes sense… she was even taller than _ you_...”

Olberic nods. Aye, Brünhild towered over everyone. That was partly what made her so intimidating to her enemies. The rest was done through her strength and skill.

... Olberic looked up to her so much.

“So… if this is just a vision of the past, then… What do we do now? What’s even caused it?” Tressa brings him out of his thoughts.

Olberic briefly explains his hunch that it is a rift in time and space, but isn’t able to explain much further, considering he doesn't know much himself.

The merchant purses her lips, and nods slowly. Olberic is thankful she didn't disbelieve him outright. But then she notices the world beginning to flicker again, and takes Olberic’s arm in an attempt to make sure they aren’t separated when it shifts.

And as the world around them jolts again, it feels no less unpleasant than last time. Tressa's plan seems to work, though, and she is still there when it’s over.

The place they have ended up in is… oddly dark. Almost dreamlike in its lack of any real substance. There’s a hill covered in snow, with… something moving both up and down it. Odd structures that Olberic had never seen before.

There is some familiarity, though - in the form of the rest of the group.

But the reunion was short lived.

* * *

“Why are you here?” asks a voice - Primrose’s voice. The other Primrose, with the shorter hair, specifically.

Oh Gods, wait, the others are here, too. They all seem to be in… uniforms, of some kind. Primrose’s was predominantly black.

The non-uniformed Primrose steps forward. “We could ask you the same.” She glares.

The other Alfyn (his uniform being mostly white, like the others’) folds his arms. “We’re here because we need to be.”

Olberic can tell this may not turn out well, and with a sigh he looks the other Primrose directly in the eyes.

“We didn’t come here by _ choice _.” He clarifies.

It’s only then that Olberic realises that it’s not just the five alternates he had encountered last time. This time they had H’aanit, Therion, and Tressa as well. Cyrus appears to be restrained in some way. Though given what he had said when they last spoke in person, perhaps that isn’t so surprising.

The other Therion growls, his pointed teeth bared. “Then find a way _ out _.” He says. “It’s too dangerous for people with no experience like you.”

The other H’aanit nods, and Olberic notices parts of her skin appear to be grey, or even stone.

Erhardt is about to object, but is interrupted by the snow moving underneath them.

The snow rises up, revealing the beast. It towers over all, and lets out it’s ethereal roar.

It feels even worse outwith the dream.

The other versions of the group draw their weapons, seemingly undeterred by the oppressive aura of the creature.

“Ba’al vi; Snowcap!” The other Primrose shouts. “You’ll meet the same fate as the false god from whence you came!”

The Ba’al’s head crashes down, the blade digging deep in the snow. The group all avoid the attack, at least.

The Tressa in the white uniform spares a glance to the other group. “Keep away!” She says. "You won’t stand a chance against it!”

An icicle forms very suddenly underneath her, launching her upwards. She is enveloped in light midair, however, and her outfit changes. Still white like her outfit beforehand, but with a yellow bow, a headband with wings, and bizarre armour around her legs. Twirling her spear around, Tressa comes crashing down blade-first with a shout, right into the Ba’al’s body.

The group not fighting step back, though most are frozen on the spot.

The other Therion snarls and he tackles his counterpart out of the way of more icicles. Since he's closer, it's easier to see that there are scales around his face, and his pupils are slitted. A similar light surrounds him when he stands back up, upon grasping an orange gem of sorts. When it fades, it's altogether not _vastly_ different, aside from the poncho being replaced with a hood, and the acquisition of gloves.

A strange red flash, and the draconic Therion all but disappears in an instant, ripping through the beast so quickly that no one could possibly keep track. He stumbles afterwards, panting heavily.

The other Olberic is wearing thick armour, yet can still move surprisingly quickly. He drives his blade into the ground, the shockwave creating a shield around his allies.

Olberic had been so caught up watching it play out that he had neglected to remember that he and his group are in just as much danger. A foolish mistake that he’d only made as a squire before.

One of the Ba'als metal poles slashes his arm (he had no time to block in any other way, but better his arm than his neck) tearing right through his thick clothing with ease.

Olberic grits his teeth and steadies himself, the grip on his blade's hilt firm.

The rest of the world falls away around him as he focuses solely on his opponent, this 'Snowcap'.

But when he strikes, his sword comes into contact with the blade atop the beast’s head. It was _ blocking _ him, and it was strong enough to push him back. It threatened to throw him off balance, likely the very _ point _of it’s actions. And if he does, it could easily impale him while he tries to recover. He could try to overpower it just enough to throw it off, but the damned thing is strong for being mostly comprised of snow. It may have too much reach for him to back off without sustaining some kind of injury, but it seems to be his only option.

The collision of steel screeches in his ears, even over his quickened pulse.

And over that still, he hears the other Olberic shout in desperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Bass Boosted Ba'al Battle playing ominously in the distance)

**Author's Note:**

> by 'back on my bullshit', i do, absolutely, mean my Very Specific brand of bullshit  
................ press f for olberic, things might get a little bit wild.  
anyway, tags will be added as/if necessary.


End file.
